


Quiet Lies

by mediocrityatbest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest
Summary: Dee gets a little bruised up. Luckily, it's not anything a couple of horror movies can't fix.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit Sanders
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	Quiet Lies

Virgil’s hands shake as he cleans the wounds decorating Dee’s face. The longer he’s been friends with Dee the more he’s realizing he prefers to be the one getting his ass kicked and subsequently bandaged by his friend rather than the opposite. It’s a lot easier to be in pain than it is to watch someone you care about be in pain.

“How many of them were there?” Virgil asks gruffly. It’s easier to pretend that it doesn’t bother him half as much as it really does. Neither of them like being worried over, not in that overbearing way so many other people do. “This doesn’t look like one person.”

Dee shrugs. Virgil pulls an ice pack out of the freezer and tosses it to him. “Not sure,” he finally says. He’s perfected the art of ‘unaffected indifference’ and it’s impressive how Virgil can only tell he’s shaken because he knew him before he was so good at it. Still, he can see the tremor in his hand as he lifts the ice pack to his cheek again, can hear the barely-there dip in his voice on the last syllable.

“Tylenol?” Virgil suggests instead of putting Dee on edge with his observations. Dee shakes his head, and Virgil is understanding, now, why they always look like they want to hit him when he refuses medicine to help with  _ his _ pain. That doesn't mean he’s going to take the medicine, but he gets it now.

He gets the bottle anyway and sets it on the counter. Dee can change his mind if he wants and Virgil won’t know either way, but at least he’ll have the option.

“You interrupted my movie marathon,” Virgil says. Dee looks disbelievingly toward the living room and then looks back at Virgil. The look seems to say  _ I don't see a movie on that T.V. Try again _ . “I was going to watch the Lord of the Rings movies.”

“Don't let me stop you,” Dee says, languidly slipping off the stool and trying to smoothly recover from the almost fall caused by his hurt leg. Virgil also tries to smoothly recover from the panicked lurch forward he performed when Dee almost fell, and moves into the living room to search for the movies before Dee can see the flush heating up his face.

Virgil makes a show of searching for the movies, shoving the boxes all the way to the back of the T.V. stand and out the other side. He does a few more sweeps just to make sure Dee is aware that they aren't anywhere in the area.

“Huh,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “They're not here. I bet Logan took ‘ em.” He looks at Dee, and then the T.V. “Well, my collection of horror movies is still here, and...and nothing else. Where the fuck are my Disney movies? Fucking Roman.” Virgil groans. That, at least, isn't for show. It appears Roman really had ransacked his movies and taken what he liked.

“That's what you get for letting him come in,” Dee says. He’s smirking.

“Guess we’ll have to watch the horror movies, then,” Virgil says, popping Sinister into the DVD player. He turns the lights off as the previews start playing and scrambles for the couch.

“Oh no,” Dee mutters. “Anything but a horror movie. My one weakness.” He subtly, smoothly, not obviously at all sits as close to Virgil as he can without touching him. Virgil conveniently remembers he forgot to get drinks.

“Don't start it without me,” he says, knowing Dee will. He hears the first sounds as he grabs two cans of cream soda and another ice pack because the first is starting to melt. When he drops himself back onto the couch, he's practically sitting on top of Dee.

“Get off of me,” Dee says. He makes no move to shove Virgil off.

“My couch, my rules,” Virgil returns and wiggles around to be partially behind Dee instead. He definitely doesn't do it so that he can slowly wrap his arms around Dee when the scares happen, or so that Dee can relax into him and know he’s safe in Virgil’s shitty apartment.

They're not friends. Virgil doesn't care about what makes Dee feel good, it's all for himself. It has nothing to do with Dee or Dee being hurt. Or-or the overwhelming sense of  _ home _ they both get from such actions going unspoken but not unfelt. None of that impacts Virgil’s decision to wrap around Dee like an opossum at the next jump scare, and none of that is what makes Dee smile for a second before he wipes it away and leans back into Virgil.

“You make an awful couch,” Dee says.

“It’s an art,” Virgil says, squeezing him just a little. Dee sighs and drops his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. He snorts.

“Movie’s scarier sideways,” Dee mumbles, but he sounds more tired than before. He’ll probably drift off before they even finish the third movie, at this rate.

“I’m sure it is,” Virgil says, stifling a laugh when Dee huffs at him. It’s quiet, and they’ve both seen Sinister enough times that they stop pretending to be scared and curl up to be as warm as they can be without letting the demons grab their feet. It’s not unpleasant, not unwanted. It’s really pretty perfect.

It’d be perfecter if Dee wasn’t hurt but, baby steps. They’ll get there eventually.

They fall asleep on the couch and they will wake up aching in the morning, but for now they are perfectly comfortable and warm and at home. That’s what matters.


End file.
